Greatest Years of Our Lives
by layers-of-a-face
Summary: High school AU. Richtofen leaves behind a home with no promise to come to Treyarch's Academy for Boys. How will he adjust to the American lifestyle, and is high school all it's made up to be? Rated T for language and suggestive themes.
1. An Odd Exposition

GREATEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES

Okay, so I guess I've been hyped up about RiDe for some reason. I don't think it's going to be a oneshot because I suck at closing things up. It's RichtofenxDempsey. In case you can't tell by the school name, Treyarch's Academy for Boys, characters from all the games I've played will be making appearances as this progresses.

**Chapter One**

His parents had made him come here, to this boarding school here in America. _It'll be a fresh start._ Not like he could actually object without them deciding it would be good to start hitting him repeatedly in the face. So, here he was, and where he would be for the next four years of his high school education, save for some holidays when he'd go home. The dark-haired teenager tentatively wondered if he should just run back to the taxi that had brought him here.

He swallowed his temporary fear just by thinking about having to go back to the hellhole he was forced to call a home. The spiked iron tips on top of the rusted fence didn't help with that, either, but he puffed out his chest and began to stride to the entrance. How bad could it possibly be out here, away from the place he'd always wanted to run away from? His old public school wasn't a better place as far as he knew. At least it'd given him defined arm muscles from scrambling up onto assorted high places to avoid bullies numerous.

For the first time in his life, he was in America alone. Technically, he wasn't from the millions of others that lived here, but he was pretty damn sure that there were no other mildly schizophrenic, German Neo-Nazis about the place. He sure felt pretty alone right now. _Don't be an idiot, Richtofen, it's not like you haven't felt alone before. Remember vhen your dad vas on a business trip in South Carolina und he stuffed you in zhe closet vhile he had zhat hooker over?_

Edward Richtofen, Jr. stepped up on the grey concrete, offering one last look back before he shifted the weight on his shoulders and headed inside. A woman sat at the reception desk and he crossed over quietly, which was surprising due to the fact that he was wearing a heavy pair of steel-toed combat boots. She looked up at him and pointed a sharp, blood red nail at a clipboard, the other tapping away at a keyboard. "Write your name down, honey, we've gotta keep track of who comes in. I assume you're the Richtofen boy, your roommate will be down soon to show you around." She returned her attention to the computer, chewing gum loudly as she did so.

He shyly looked down at the paper and signed it, wondering whom his roommate could possibly be. Hadn't he received the news along with his acceptance letter? Yes, he was sure he'd written it down on his hand. Richtofen opened his clenched fist after putting the pen back and pushing the clipboard forward. He looked down at his hand and saw the familiar scrawl of his own handwriting, now smudged by hours upon hours of planes and trains and taxis to get here. Two simple words that were screaming 'we're American, most definitely!' Tank Dempsey.

Would it be one of those jar-headed jocks? He assumed so, what with the fact that his name was Tank. It would be strange if he turned out to be some scrawny, nerdy kid. But hey, wasn't he here in the land of the free and the home of the brave? You could have a totally unfitting name, he was sure. Edward crossed over to one of the chairs and looked down the halls that split left and right, both sealed off by heavy-looking doors. For some reason, he felt awfully nervous.

Suddenly, a boy with blond hair and blue eyes emerged from the door on the right, sporting the same school uniform he was wearing right now. He was grinning, the expressive gesture lighting up his face in a way that seemed pretty friendly. The woman at the desk rolled her eyes when he extended a hand to him, Edward awkwardly standing up on his own before shaking it. "Name's Tank Dempsey. Welcome to this horrid excuse for a boarding school." He found himself thinking that he already knew that his name was Tank, but he didn't say anything on the manner. Richtofen was used to being hostile of people, but his therapist said he would have to try and socialize more. _Come on... Give this guy a chance._

"I'm Edvard Richtofen. Pleasure to meet you..." He swiftly let go of his hand, never having liked human contact whatsoever. Maybe it was the way his voices snickered and how his cheeks were flushed. His facial muscles twitched up in the nervous parody of a smile when Tank looked him over for a few seconds. Well, he was just as he imagined. A tall, muscled guy with the stereotypical blond and blue. To his five ten, he'd have to be at least six foot.

"Enough of the damn formalities. Just call me Dempsey. I'm gonna call you Richtofen." The name was given to him as swiftly as a second grader deciding what to call a lizard they found in their backyard. "Come on... We've got the afternoon ahead of us. School's not actually started yet." Dempsey fluidly moved across the tile in what seemed like an instant, leaving him to scramble after in a strange way that came with his lanky body.

There were several boys leaning against their lockers who stared him down in the most intimidating way possible, and he proceeded to stare right back down... at his shoes, keeping in step with his American roommate. A few whistles and catcalls resounded throughout the mostly empty hallway. "Dempsey's got a boyfriend!" They were silenced by a cold glare from him, and he gestured for him to go through a door that he could see stairs behind. There was a label on it that read 'Floors 5-6: Dorms'.

"You have an entire two floors just for dorms?" Richtofen asked him as he lugged his bags up the stairs. He really wasn't used to the academy experience, no sir.

"Well, yeah, we've got plenty of kids around here. There's forty dorms per floor with two per dorm, so that's..." The awkward pause showed that his name might give a clue as to his strength as well as intelligence level. "One hundred sixty kids!" He added confidently as they stepped up the second flight of stairs. Richtofen smiled despite himself, having done the math in the first couple seconds out of the ten or so that it had taken for Tank to do it.

Soon, they were up the stairs, after a useless rambling that Richtofen only half listened to. Dempsey pushed open a door that told them dully it lead to the sixth floor. "Dorm 539 is the place we're goin'. That's 'cuz there's forty on the fifth floor and then another forty on the sixth floor, but they didn't chance the five to a six." He explained, though the German had swiftly caught on to the way it must have worked after seeing an oak door with 502 printed on it through the small porthole that showed them floor five.

"Danke Gott! Zhese bags are heavy." Richtofen said in reply, his back aching from having to constantly be holding them over the past day and a half. He managed to step with him through the hallway milling with teenagers, careful to not lose sight of the blond. _Vhy do zhese Americans have to look alike? At least he's sort of tall... _The young man complained to himself after seeing Dempsey disappear into one of the doors. Richtofen followed, closing the door to the dorm that he'd be sharing with him for the next one thousand four hundred sixty days.

"I've got top bunk. Just slam your shit wherever you wanna put it, by the door, wherever, I've gotta take a piss." Richtofen automatically dropped it down at the foot of the lumpy looking bed, flopping down. The sleeve of his shirt accidentally pulled up, revealing a tattoo of an Iron Cross he'd illegally had there since around the age of thirteen when his gang first picked him up. It was nothing compared to the Imperial Eagle between his shoulder blades that showed off a proud Nazi flag within the crest on its chest. Emerald eyes shot up to see him going into the bathroom. Good, he didn't see. He bit his lip as he wondered if he would ever find out about his secret.

He waited on the bunk until the blond came back out, pointing a slack hand at his bags. "Vhere should I put my stuff? Do ve have communal drawers or somesing, or do I just stick zhem under my bunk?" His brow rose as Dempsey started to laugh. Why was he laughing? Richtofen was pretty sure that he hadn't told him something in the likeness of a joke. Then again, he sometimes wasn't exactly aware of what he said, and this could be one of those occasions.

"Sorry." He straightened again and looked at him, a rugged smile planted firmly on his face and refusing to leave. "I can hardly tell what yer saying with that accent and how fast ya talk. I wonder if my granddad was here... He'd be runnin' up and down the hall screamin' that there was gonna be a kraut invasion pretty soon. Just keep it in that nightstand or whatever the hell that is or under the bunk, like you said." Richtofen nodded and got up, picking up the bag with his clothes and miscellaneous things and going over to the nightstand he'd been directed to.

He kneeled down and began to neatly stuff things inside. "Vhen does school start?" Richtofen asked as he gently refolded a uniform shirt that had been jumbled on the way here. The notice he'd received hadn't actually given him a date, but it was the seventeenth of August right now. His parents had enrolled him just in time to start a new year, which was lucky for him. He remembered stalking into the classroom of his old school in fifth grade halfway through the year. By the end of eighth grade, he had more scars than you could possibly count from the frequent whalings inflicted upon him.

"The nineteenth. Pretty gracious. You'd think they'd make us start today, since we all arrived on the sixteenth 'cept you and a few other stragglers, but they ain't. Two more days of the principal and staff dealing with some rowdy teenage boys, yeah?" Dempsey had climbed up on top of his bed, but he suddenly shot up, banging his head on the ceiling as he did so. Richtofen looked over to see him beaming, fingers gripping the rail. "My friends and I are gonna go to a party tonight, see if we can get some girls. You should come with us, have a little luck before you don't got any more during the school days."

Richtofen said nothing at first, too consumed in the monotonous task of putting away his things, though he'd registered his offer. Also, the idea of him being invited to a party was strange. He'd never been to a party before, never kissed anyone but his mother, never done any sort of drug. The only time he'd actually been drunk was when he was fourteen, just last year, and with his father at a business meeting in a bar, allowed to have a drink with the men. It was there he learned that, unlike his peers and most of the men there, he definitely couldn't hold his liquor.

However, the idea was tempting. He wanted to kiss girls and go to parties and test his drinking capacities. Maybe even take a hit of one of the infamous drugs from around here. This place was in the state of Colorado, and they'd legalized weed back in 2012. Besides, he couldn't shoot down Dempsey. He'd been so nice to him so far, and he didn't really want to make an enemy. From experience, he knew that some people could get pissy over their requests being denied. Richtofen slipped in a pair of pants before turning to look at him. "Sure. Vhen's zhe party? I kid of vant to take a nap, I have some serious jetlag."

Dempsey looked at a note that he'd written on his wrist after pulling back the sleeve to reveal it. "It's at nine." He flipped over his arm to look at an old, leather-bound watch. "Right now, it's four, so I can wake you up at eight forty-five or something and we can go." His mouth seemed to be running constantly, and it might be good for him to actually hear the constant chatter of someone besides his voices every once in a while. Speaking of those damned things...

_I bet it's not only girls that you vant to kiss. Vhat about your brand-new American boyfriend? You heard zhose boys in zhe hallvay... _One unhelpfully piped up as he continued his stuffing away of assorted articles of clothing. There weren't many more left, as he'd packed enough outfits for one each day for the next nine days. His parents were rich, and understood that he'd have to look like it. If their child was killed or brutally beaten at school, their own records could surface in court. So, they had actually treated him kindly for once in his fifteen years.

_Oh, shut up... I don't like him like zhat. I hardly know Dempsey; it's been less zhan an hour zhat I've been here. How could I possibly like him? _Richtofen zipped his bag closed and tossed it under his bed, closing the drawer with a boot and then wearily returning to his bed. "Sanks for inviting me to zhe party, und sanks for vaking me up." He murmured, pulling up the covers to his chin and closing his eyes. Though he couldn't hear it as he was swiftly falling asleep already, his American acquaintance replied to his tired statement.

"No problem, man, I've got yer back." He heard that and a little bit on incomprehensible mumbling before he let out a sigh and passed out in an unfamiliar bed that had just been firmly designated as his own. High school couldn't be that bad, could it? He'd just have to learn to deal with it should any problems come up. At least it wasn't as bad as his home was. And, for the next few months, he wouldn't even have to think once about going back there again. It was just him, his studies, and the other one hundred fifty-eight high schoolers that he had yet to meet.

At a quarter 'til nine...

He awoke at the promised time, give or take a few minutes, by a rough hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Richtofen, wake up, it's eight forty already." Said teenager opened his eyes and looked into a pair of bright, cerulean blue ones that were paired with a grin. For a second, he had no idea where he was, and he squirmed away from the hand on his shoulder, probably appearing rather afraid to his American friend. "Man, it's just me, Dempsey."

Richtofen remembered as soon as he said it. He was here, at Treyarch's Academy for Boys, away from his house. Yes, he did know this stranger, despite what the voices whispered in the back of his head. The dark-haired individual sat up, kicking off the blanket. Looking down for a moment, he smoothed the front of his rumpled uniform shirt. Then he turned his attention back to Dempsey, who was wearing the white undershirt that went with the uniform and a pair of black shorts. "Ja, ja, zhe party. I almost forgot." He jammed his knuckles in his eyes in an attempt to get the sleep from them.

"Well, I hope ya got a good rest, 'cuz we're going to be partying all night." He got out of his bunk and staggered over to his drawer where he'd put his stuff a bit earlier in the day. "Don't bother with the uniform. Just wear your gym shorts or something." Dempsey added, disappearing around a small corner, presumably to get his shoes. Richtofen nodded even though he knew that he was no longer there, picking out the shorts his parents had him wearing since he was twelve.

He loosened his tie and then folded it in half, returning to his bunk and setting it down there. Richtofen had a need for everything to be as neat as possible. Some of his few friends back at his school in Germany called him a stiff on every occasion that they could. They asked him why he would never calm down and have a little fun like the rest of them. He didn't really want to say that he had tried alcohol before and he didn't have any interest in making out with some poor soul and then waking up the next morning with a headache. Richtofen could be a weird drunk.

His shirt came off and he did the same thing that he had with the tie, leaving him with his undershirt. Thankfully, it had sleeves, and it didn't show off the tattoo emblazoned on his back that he'd managed to hide from everyone but his fellow gang members. He got up and crossed over to the bathroom, seeing Dempsey waiting for him at the entrance. Richtofen closed the door and quickly and changed, folding his uniform pants and then setting them down on the bed with his other clothes.

"Geez, did that take long enough... I'm lucky that the guy will probably start late." Richtofen offered him a small smile and then walked to the door. He had no idea where he was going, and would probably have a hard time navigating anywhere but the front desk and this floor. The other three were probably for classes, and he had no idea if there was such thing as a seventh. On the way, he was glad that his roommate soon explained to him how things were to work around here.

"We've got floor four for recreation and the arts, so that's where the vending machines and gym and shit are. There's art and dance and those sorts of things. Two and three are for your regular things. Plus the nurse's office and the actual office are on floor three. The gym is on the first floor in that door to the left, but you can access it from anywhere." Dempsey prattled on as they strode down the hall. Apparently, Dempsey wasn't lying when he said he was attending with some friends. Around seven kids of all shapes and sizes soon crowded around.

Richtofen stayed close to his side, nervous of all the people. He would have to admit that he trusted him even though he'd only known him for a few hours. Dempsey slung a casual arm around his body shoulders. "Guys, this is Richtofen. He's a German or something. Richtofen, meet the guys." Apparently, he didn't actually want to bother with telling him their names. He knew he'd find out at some point or another.

In a slur of voices all in different pitches, the guys introduced themselves. He picked up a couple of names, or at least, he thought he did. _Uh, Frank, Raul... Vhat zhe hell kind of name is Soap? Maybe it is a surname or somesing. _ A couple of them clapped him on the back. Richtofen felt welcome and yet, at the same time, quite intimidated by their presence. Most were actually taller than him, explaining this.

"Dempsey, how're we getting there?" One asked him as they headed down to the first floor on the stairs. The blond looked back to the group, as he was already at the bottom of the stairwell. He appeared to be pretty eager to get to this party, and it was obvious why. School was coming in less than two days, and even a stiff like Richtofen knew that there would be no time to live a nice and social life.

"It's only a few blocks away, we're walking." The young man replied. No one groaned about that, they just continued their talking in small groups. He noticed that most everyone was above the normal fitness level, including his roommate. Richtofen felt a bit out of place, what with his being scrawny and short. Even the male that was shorter than him by an inch or so was buff as hell. If he was going to be hanging around with him, he'd probably have to toughen up.

They left the building, Dempsey nodding to the woman at the reception desk. The academy would probably be empty tonight with all the teenagers trying to get the most out of things before they were forced into multiple classrooms. Life under the strict schedule he'd observed in the notice of his acceptance was probably going to be very restricting. Everyone was up at seven, and classes were done at four. They had to stay on the school's perimeter until six, but after that, they were allowed to wander about. Until nine at night, at which time they had to come back. Ten was lights out.

Richtofen sighed and kicked a stone on the sidewalk that he was trudging on. _An interesting exposition to zhese next few years. I vonder if zhis school vill be any different from zhe rest. _He certainly hoped that it would.


	2. Why Richtofen Doesn't Drink

I'm sick today and have nothing better to do than just start writing the second chapter, so that's precisely what I'm going to do until my older brother gets home and my family celebrates his birthday. c: Don't expect quick updates all the time, though.

Warning: This chapter contains a drunk German.

**Chapter 2**

**Why Richtofen Doesn't Drink**

They talked throughout the three or four blocks on the way to the party Dempsey had been invited to, and had in turn, invited them. He was glad to finally be with some people other than his tight circle of friends back home in Germany. The academy experience had not been too bad that far, but it wasn't like he'd spent more than a day there or had actually put up with the actual academics. Richtofen stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked up to the house that the party was in.

He could see the silhouettes of people from the carefully shaded curtain in the window. Some were holding drinks, sitting down, dancing like beheaded chickens, and making out... He'd never had the pleasure of enjoying a gathering of unsupervised minors with access to things like alcohol and drugs. Needless to say, he would probably have the time of his life. Or maybe he would not. Richtofen was the type to sit in a corner and watch everyone else have fun.

However, he had a young man by the name of Tank Dempsey with him, and though he was only approaching his sixteenth birthday, he'd experienced all of that. He assumed from their meeting one another and his shyness that the German probably hadn't done anything of the sort. Richtofen didn't know it, but he'd get around to slipping some sort of drug or alcoholic substance in whatever drink he had before the end of the night. He was the type to draw mustaches and obscene things on the faces of his friends after they'd passed out at a party like this.

Richtofen hung back, looking at the door after the first couple of Dempsey's friends headed inside. He didn't know if he actually wanted to attend. Maybe he could just go and sleep more, try and get some rest and get back on his sleep schedule. There was a large time zone gap between Colorado and his hometown back in Deutschland; he'd probably be waking up later than usual. If he was to be awake each day at seven, he'd have to get himself on track. With this thought in mind, he took a step back.

Dempsey saw this and immediately came over to him. "Oh, come on, you've gotta at least try it! There ain't nothin' like an American party." Richtofen attempted to recoil his arm when the blond grabbed the upper part of it, but he was a pretty weak kid, and had no choice but to not object as he was dragged into the house where Dempsey's friends waited. "Would ya look at the guy? He looks like a koala!" Dempsey chuckled as he shook him off into a chair.

There were some pretty bright lights that did not usually belong in a person's house, and everyone there was in small groups, talking and living it up. Well, save for some other kids like him, who stayed in the darker parts of the packed house, staring down at their red plastic cups and swirling the drink inside about. You'd think the introverts would wander together and strike up a conversation, but they wouldn't. He remembered something he'd seen over the internet that boasted good ways to kill a person like him: starve him by putting a stranger in his kitchen, poison him and then make him walk to the other side of a packed room to get the antidote, and stab them to make them ask for help in a crowded lecture hall. In all situations, he'd die.

Then his American friend was bouncing back again, two of his friends right by his side and a girl on his arm. She appeared to be staggering with every step and had an airy grin on her face. How long had he been sitting here if Dempsey already had a girl? _If I'm really going to sink about it, probably around five minutes, maybe a little more. _Dempsey looked him over, incredulous. "What're you doin', just sittin' there? We're at this party for a reason! I don't wanna have to pick ya up and drag you over to the drinks table like I had to drag you in here."

Richtofen's neutral expression turned to the slightest of frowns when the corner of his mouth tugged down. "How long is zhis party? I'll get to zhe drinks table eventually, just go und bozzer somevon else." He'd never go over to the drinks table on his own free will. Dempsey would have to carry him over or something if he was really so insistent on getting him completely wasted in order to have a good time. He was a determined person, though, one with skills that should not be taken lightly in the area of these things.

He might not be as good as it as he usually was, mostly on account that he was a little drunk himself. In ten minutes, he could down more shots than the world's toughest plane could take under enemy fire. That was a completely different type of shots, but Dempsey could probably compare to it either way. "Get up... You're so stiff it isn't even funny." Dempsey proceeded to laugh, the cogs of a dirty mind turning to register the joke. "That's what she said."

Richtofen smiled a little bit at his immature joke, though he didn't rise from his seat that he'd been dumped in no more than fifteen minutes ago. "Really, I vill go und get a drink at some point in zhis fine night. Go enjoy zhe party like you Americans enjoy parties, I vant nozzing to do vith it." He tapped the polished toe of his boot on the carpet. A single noise that any of them could hear was not made, but the feeling of the muscles moving in his leg sated his need to show his impatience, even if he was the only one who could see or feel it.

"But it ain't a good party with you just sitting here. Today's your first day in America, have some fun!" Richtofen didn't bother to correct his mistake. It wasn't like he knew that he'd been forced to the U.S several times to see how his father's business worked. He never saw anything but darkness, mostly in assorted closets in nice hotels. Dempsey's friends looked a little impatient and the girl had wandered off somewhere.

For the second time that night, the young man grabbed him by the arm. He was able to shove him off this time because of his alcohol-weakened grip. "Fine, fine, just von drink, nozzing more, nozzing less. Zhen vill you get off of my case und let me enjoy zhe party my vay?" Richtofen caved, as he knew that this could be a living hell if he didn't give a guy like Dempsey what he wanted. Dempsey thought it over for a moment before nodding.

"Yeah, come on... I've got a drink you'll like." Dempsey told him, though it was unclear to the young German that the drink in mind was very, very strong. Call it a concoction that could leave you passed out on the ground, created by one of his senior friend's friends. If he could get him to try a glass, then he'd either be out cold on the ground by the end of it or just past the point of something commonly known as drunk. That is, if he could even get him to try the drink.

They sat down with the American's two comrades, who'd miraculously not wandered off like the drunken female, at one of the stools the host of the party had set up in front of the kitchen counter, a dim light hanging above their heads. Dempsey smiled and gestured to the guy working the place. He'd explained the situation as soon as he'd disappeared into the crowd. The senior whose friend invented the drink also happened to be hosting the party, and the guy was rich. This place was a class act for a bunch of minors, probably in the nicer grades of parties.

The would-be bartender poured them two identical-looking drinks, though Dempsey's was made of softer stuff. Though he wasn't smart in things like math and science, he'd had nearly sixteen years to wreak havoc on people and make a good prank or two. "I trust zhat zhis isn't too strong?" Richtofen asked warily once he'd been passed the drink. For a guy who had just met Dempsey on his first time by himself in America, he was oddly trusting of him. The voices were disbelieving, but he'd managed to put their constant roar down to a muffle.

"Nope. Not by American standards, anyway. It'll probably be like water to you Germans, right?" Dempsey replied, downing half of his cup in just one sip. He had a high drinking tolerance. There had been several parties with drinking contents and he still had ten bucks left over from the last one. So what for drinking minors? As far as Richtofen knew and Dempsey cared, the legal drinking age was fifteen.

Richtofen ran his finger in a circle around the rim of the cup, one eyebrow arching. _You are already dragged here and you know he von't let you leave until you at least take a sip of it... Vhy not just enjoy a drink vhile you're in a place like this? You are a stiff. _The more lenient side of him urged, and he blinked his toxic green eyes as he considered it. However, he was a man of neatness and morals. His personality reflected it, even on the inside. _You know vhat happened zhe last time you got drunk... Your vater's covorkers still have zhat video of you belting out May Day on zhe table._

"You gonna drink that, or am I going to have to get my friends hold you down and then pour it down your throat?" Dempsey was only joking, but years of abuse had left him pretty raw and afraid of things. If he wasn't so well educated, he might have been one of those guys that would literally bite their tongue when you told them to, or ask where the cat that had been let out of the bag was. Richtofen snorted and chugged it. Just because he had once enjoyed a drink once didn't mean he didn't know how to drink things. Many a friendly cola-drinking contest between his friends and himself at school had educated him in the matter.

The strong alcohol was on its way to being digested within a few seconds, and his head started to feel like there were bees trapped inside after a minute or two. With the watered-down substance he'd been given back in Germany he had not experienced the lovely thing known as being buzzed. He sighed and looked over at Dempsey, nearly falling off of his bar stool when the world started to spin a bit. His American acquaintance grinned and helped him so he wouldn't topple onto the ground. "Easy there, tiger..."

"Zhis is great. Vhy don't I drink more often? Can I have anozzer?" Richtofen asked shortly after, his words slurred. With how fast alcohol took hold of his system, most would probably be quite surprised. He sighed and then flopped down a little bit, just leaning against the counter while the bartender poured him what he'd requested. Dempsey and his comrades looked on in amusement as he drank about half of the cup.

If there had been pictures or video of the parts of the night that followed, Richtofen would forever be ashamed. He was glad in days that followed to only live by the words of people who told him what had gone down at the party after he'd had a cup and a half of the extremely strong drink. Now, Richtofen was a skinny kid. Dempsey, on the other hand, could be compared to his friend, Ernst Kruse, back in Germany. The guy could also be named Tank, but that'd probably happen if he'd been born in America. Huge and in likeness to a grizzly bear, Ernst was not one to be messed with. Anyway, Edward was drunk, the most drunk he'd been in his fifteen years.

"Lemme tell you about my frien' Dempsey... Have ya seen zhe guy?" He said, despite the fact that the blond was sitting right next to him. Richtofen looked up at the bartender who was currently pouring a drink for someone else. "He's built like a bullin' shit! Shittin' bull?" The dark-haired teenager mused, the wonderings of a genius. With his cup in hand, his arm flung back and he accidentally let go of his drink. The cup cracked from the force exerted and the drink smattered the wall.

Dropping the conversation momentarily, he gazed behind him, nails digging into the wood of the counter. "I dropped by sh-hing..." For a second, he continued his search in vain before turning his attention back to the rather confused bartender. Richtofen's head slammed to the counter with a painful click, but he didn't seem to mind. "Vha' vas I sayin'? Oh. Oohhhhhh, Dempsey. Yeah... Dempsey's greaaat." Still sitting by him for some reason, Dempsey shot him a weird look and scooted to the edge of his stool. "Vha've I been drinking? Vhen do I get my b-brain back?"

"O-okay, champ, that's enough for one night..." Dempsey smiled awkwardly, taking his arm. Richtofen didn't resist this time, only staring at him with half-lidded eyes. Hopefully, the stain wouldn't set and he could avoid being skinned by the host and his friend, a boy who liked to be referred to as Makarov. Richtofen groaned and his hand groped about for his drink, as he'd forgotten already that it'd just been thrown at a wall.

"Is it time to leave already? Didn't ve just get here? Vhat did you say about a good time?" Richtofen looked on as Dempsey picked him up and walked over to a particularly large knot of people, shouldering to the middle. Makarov, currently with a couple of giggling girls clinging to him, disinterestedly looked at the American with multi-colored eyes.

"What is it?" The voice was familiar and yet unfamiliar to Richtofen's ears. He recognized that it would have had to originate somewhere in Russia. Richtofen heard Dempsey laugh a little bit, and he was confused. What the senior had said wasn't funny, right? Or was he just too drunk to register it?

"Can I use one of yer rooms upstairs?"

"I didn't think that you were a faggot." Makarov grinned cheekily at him under a pair of smarm-ed brows. Richtofen giggled a little bit, his voice oddly high pitched. Well, more so than usual, considering he always had a pretty high-pitched tone to his voice.

"I'm not a faggot. He's just drunk off his ass and I need to clean something up off of the wall. A drink he threw, for that manner. So, ya want it out or not?" Makarov's grin disappeared and he nodded as he thought of the things proposed by Dempsey's teeth-gritting growl. Richtofen remained dormant in the American's arms, occasionally chuckling at things only he could see. Those things were visions projected by the voices now freed under the buzz of intoxicating liquid. Just as the black haired teen nodded to confirm it, Richtofen decided to say something stupid in his native language.

"Dieses Kind ist ein Esel!" He slurred, essentially calling him both a kid and an ass. Makarov didn't actually understand any German, but he glared at him. Richtofen didn't respond and still didn't when they both left the group, having left Dempsey's friends to their own devices. What the foreign boy didn't know was that the blond had been here many times for several parties already, and he'd been up in these rooms more times than he could count. This was the first time he was here with a drunken friend; it was mostly drunk girls.

Richtofen looked around the dark hall and then was curious when Dempsey kicked open a door to one of the numerous bedrooms about the house. He was carried across the room and then set down on the bed in the middle of the room. "Vhy am I on a bed, Dempsey? Ve hardly know each ozzer!" Richtofen joked, sitting up to only roll onto his side form complete lack of coordination at the moment. Unlike a sober person, he probably couldn't touch his nose with his finger, even if it was right in front of him.

"It's not like that, geez! Just chill out here for a few minutes while I clean up the mess you made down there. I'll come back and pick you up and we can go back to the Academy so you can sleep." Dempsey took a step back towards the door, but Richtofen suddenly shot up and grabbed the front of his shirt. Cerulean blue eyes belonging to Dempsey betrayed his surprise. Richtofen only grinned drunkenly at him, pulling himself up so that their faces were only a few sparing inches apart.

"Vere you lying to zhat boy vhen you said you veren't a faggot?" He asked, eyeing him. Richtofen normally would not do these sorts of things, but as said in a chapter previous... He was a weird drunk. That wasn't just limited to the spawning of embarrassing videos taken by his father's coworkers at a party in the last year. In a flash, he was back down on the bed, though Dempsey didn't accompany him on the journey.

"I wasn't lying. You're just drunk. I'm not a faggot, either... I'll come back and get you soon, okay?" Richtofen watched him scramble away in presumable fear of what could have happened in the room. He was soon over it and then lay back on the soft bed, staring up at the ceiling. His voices chose to express themselves at that point, knowing he was alone. No one would hear him talking to himself. Not even the shadowy spectators he felt were always watching, because they didn't truly exist.

_You do vant to kiss him, don't you? _The made-up voice of the baby sister that he could have had whimpered. His mother had a miscarriage, and that had resulted in the Richtofen immediately returning to the house. From that spawned another merciless beating for the unstable teenager. _You vouldn't leave your little sister behind, right?_

Richtofen sighed with an obvious frown, looking around in the room. Where was she? He thought he just saw her in his head, but she'd run off, looking like she would start to cry. "I'd never leave you..." On the concept of kissing the American, he said nothing. He wasn't sure if he wanted to or not. His rational mind would automatically cut it off, but when he was drunk, he didn't know. "He's just my friend."

_Nazis aren't gay, Richtofen, remember vhat zhey did back in zhe Second Vorld Var vith zhe homosexuals? _An apparition of the leader of his gang appeared in front of him with a cruel smirk he always had on his face. _Nazis don't kiss ozzer men; you should know zhat by now. How long have you been vith the gang? Oh, ja, ever since zhe death of your sister... _There was a form in the darkness that he pointed to, and Richtofen looked over. His sister crouched, sniffling, with her face in her hands. He'd never seen her face. She was just a pale, bald form that always wore a white dress.

"But I'm not gay!" Richtofen firmly growled, squirming slightly. He felt a pang of fear and remorse strike deep into his heart at his actions. His own mind was already snapping back at him for his actions. "Dempsey's just my freund!" He sniffled for a moment, but he steeled himself and wiped his eye. Real men didn't cry, as his father had been beating into him since a young age. "Go avay, I just vant to sleep."

He could hear his dead sister crying and his gang leader laughing, pointing out his weakness to all of the other voices and people seemingly in his head. Richtofen saw more of them appear before his eyes, and he shivered, moving back until he was against the headboard. All of them laughed but the girl that could have been, grinning and throwing their heads back harshly. His lip curled and his hands turned to fists. "Go avay!" Richtofen roared, his face contorting into that of the darkest of snarls.

All of them shrunk away and disappeared just as Dempsey popped his head in. He looked both concerned and surprised. "Damn, you've got some pretty good hearing for a drunk. Whatever, I'm back, no need to be mad. We're goin' back now, just you and I. No one else really wants to leave yet." The American didn't say that he'd prefer to stay at the party, enjoy it and get wasted, have some fun with a girl for the billionth time. Instead, he strode to the bed where he was curled, picking him up again. "Is everything alright?"

Richtofen couldn't really give him an honest answer, a combination of his drunken nature and his fear holding him back from spilling the beans. "Ja... everysing is alright." Despite his assurance of his mental safety, the German teenager shook in his arms. Dempsey was just a little buzzed himself, but he could still tell that he wasn't giving him the whole thing. Richtofen was glad that he didn't choose to press about it.

Instead, he grunted and began to walk down the stairs. "Well, if that's really it..." He relented. Richtofen could feel people staring at him like there was something very wrong with him. That was true, but he was pretty sure that no one here knew about his schizophrenia. The teenager clung to him, his shivering not stopping. When he yelled at the voices like that and they yelled at him so strongly, he was always left shaken.

Usually, it was impossible for him to just stop being as prideful as he always was, but here he was, shaking in another boy's arms. He felt like he could be mistaken for a short haired girl with an extremely flat chest. At the gender-bending comparison, the voices that were not completely silenced snickered. A growl that made Dempsey jump as they left the house to go back to Treyarch's shut them up for the time being.

"Dempsey, vhat zhe hell vas in zhat drink?" He found himself asking, not knowing that he would not remember anything that had happened in the last night by the next morning. Richtofen heard him gulp. A guy would have to be cautious, and you could never truly be sure if a person forgot what you said. Thankfully, the drunk did forget.

"Alcohol. Lots and lots of really fuckin' strong alcohol." Dempsey sheepishly admitted. "I had somethin' that was probably a quarter as tough as what you got, man. You're probably so wasted that it's not even funny." Richtofen laughed at what he said, disproving him in an unprofessional way.

"I sought zhat I told you I can't hold anysing more zhan a shot of beer zhat's so vatered down you can't taste zhe beer."

"Nope." He found himself confused. Hadn't he explained to him that he shouldn't have gone because of that? Dempsey probably wouldn't lie to him. _You Saukerl, he just lied to you about zhe strength of zhat drink._ Richtofen ignored this thought. Within a few seconds, he was completely passed out in the blond's arms.

The next morning...

Goddamn, did he have a headache? It could probably knock a grown body-builder to his knees and then kill him with a single blow. Richtofen moaned in anger and clutched at his head in disbelief. Opening his eyes only made sparks of pain shoot from his eyes to everywhere else; he looked at the digital clock his roommate had. Right now, it was one twenty-six, already past noon and still trudging onward at a march much too fast for him to even attempt at keeping up. "Dempsey, are you zhere?" He asked, slumping back onto his rock-like pillow and snapping his eyes as shut as they could be.

"Yep, I'm here. Brushin' my teeth." The sound of someone spitting and then the running of a tap ensued confirmed what he had just said. Richtofen was able to picture him standing at the sink, but he let it fade because it made his head throb even worse. It felt like something was slowly splitting it open with an axe. "You okay?"

"Nein." Richtofen realized that Dempsey probably didn't understand whatever the hell it was that he just said. "Sorry, no. How did zhe party go last night?" He asked, removing an arm firmly planted on his forehead and then running it through his now-messy hair. If he'd been in the bathroom, he would have seen the blond show off a relieved grin as he rinsed out his mouth. This caused him to spill water down his front.

"Ah, shit!" He heard him exclaim, and the sound of him scrambling to get him pounded his ears like someone driving a bunch of nails into his eardrum. "It went good. You drank a lot; we partied all night. We got back with all the guys around two in the morning." Richtofen, should he have remembered, would have automatically known he was lying. Dempsey wasn't even a good liar, but his hung-over brain let it slide.

"Vunderbar." Richtofen growled at the nothingness in his brain, not at the American. He rolled over only to find himself on the ground with a painful sensation running through his body. Apparently, he was lying too close to the edge of the bed, and he paid the price. "Gott verdammt, vhy can't hangovers be as nice as zhe actual drinking part?" Complained the German, and those were words of truth in his opinion.

"Don't know. Just humanity or somethin'." He made himself open his eyes to see a shirtless Dempsey with his back to him, getting out another set of clothing for his upper body, save for a tie. For some reason, his cheeks burned. And because of his lack of memory, it just told both him and his friend why he never drank.


	3. Erinnerungen oder Träume?

JustAReviewer: Thank you so much. c: It's always been a problem for me to make sentences short and crisp when it's not in an action-oriented scene. I'll work on it.

In the next chapter, they'll finally be going to school! I just felt like I should include a little something before I did. This contains game-oriented dreaming and some stuff dealing with possible man crushes. :P

**Chapter 3**

Erinnerungen oder Träume?

After Richtofen had awoken the morning after the party with a hangover from hell, he'd decided that he'd just lie there on the ground of his dorm and die. A good solution for him to resort to, but Dempsey apparently had different plans. They spent the rest of the day screwing around in town, the American with some of his friends. Like he had been doing the previous night before he consumed alcohol, he lagged behind the rest as they joked around and hit on girls.

Now it was the nineteenth. Thankfully, hangovers didn't tend to last for more than a day. If they did, he'd go to buy a pocketknife and slit his throat. Today was now his first day of school, and he was up early. Too bad he'd been out of the academy. His sleep schedule was still very jacked up. Waking up at six forty-five would have been nicer. Richtofen blinked open his eyes, flipped onto his stomach, and looked at the digital clock with its soft green glow in the pitch-black room. He flung an arm over his eyes, and it was acceptable because the clock showed him that it was barely two in the morning.

"Vhy can't I just sleep like a normal person? Couldn't all of zhe timezones be zhe same und do me a favor?" Richtofen grumbled. He rolled back to the safety of his sheets and his pillow. Even though both couldn't exactly be described as comfortable, it was better than what he had at home. The basement was his place of sleeping, and it always creeped him out. This was an upgrade. _Doesn't really matter if it's still sort of veird sleeping in a new environment if I'm out of zhe basement._

It was a shame that the blond wasn't up early as well. Richtofen had found he was pretty good company from the past days. He was not the brightest bulb in the bunch, but boosted his nearly nonexistent ego to talk to him. _I know I need to shower und all zhat, but I don't vant to vake up Dempsey. He'd be pissed._ They were friends, that didn't mean he would not get his ass kicked by him. Richtofen had watched him get into a playful fistfight with one of his friends that had ended with bloody knuckles and noses.

He debated it for a few more seconds, then decided he'd just try to go back to sleep. He was in no mood to get the crap beat out of him if Dempsey was in a bad mood after a short night's rest. Richtofen put his back to the dorm by resting on his side, then closing his eyes. Exhausted was the only word that could describe his state right now. He'd never been able to fall asleep again when he woke up early. The universe insisted on making his mornings miserable most of the time, yet the remaining twenty-four hours were always much worse.

Maybe today would be a little bit better because it was his first day for academic studies at Treyarch's. The teachers might not be so strict with homework and being totally confused. He paid attention on every school day, even the first, but it wasn't really mandatory. His classmates in Germany sometimes had seriously messed up notes because of that. In order to be a doctor, he had to listen to everything that his teachers said.

Seconds turned to minutes, not that you could have noticed unless you had one of those watches that showed the seconds. Richtofen didn't, and the only thing informing him about the passage of time was the constant chirp of a couple of birds that he was sure had ingested some sort of hardcore drug. The noise was annoying him, but it wasn't nearly as bad as the voices that had plagued him for about as long a couple of nights ago.

"Mein Gott... I vill have to go to sleep on time if I vant to vake up at appropriate times." Richtofen moved to a sitting position and cracked his knuckles. He didn't dream of anything, like always. It just felt like timeskips in some video games where the character slept and the rest took five seconds. By the time on the clock, though, he could tell that it had not taken that small amount of time. He'd flopped in bed around ten. "Zhere's no vay I've only slept for four hours. Verdammt."

"I'm sayin' the same thing. If you'd shut your damn mouth, then I wouldn't be." Dempsey's voice growled in its normal gravelly tone. In the time it took for him to differentiate it from that of a stalker's and his American friend, he let out a few colorful curses in his native language and jumped up, smacking his forehead on the wooden top of his bunk. "What is wrong with you?" Dempsey complained shortly after Richtofen sat down on the floor and slapped his hand over his eyes and forehead.

"Sorry, Dempsey, I didn't mean to vake you up." Richtofen sheepishly replied when the momentary throbbing stopped. It was a bit hard to keep down a moan for reasons that he chose to keep to himself for the rest of his pitiful existence.

"Well, I'm up now." The blond groaned. "What the hell were you doin'? Talkin' to yourself?" He added, making his face grow a little hot in the darkness from his question. Of course he'd been talking to himself. Richtofen was a little embarrassed that he'd heard him, and now regretted his earlier wish for him to be up. If he'd just been a little loud by getting out a uniform rather than hearing his own voice.

"Yes, I vas talking to myself. Don't you do zhat sometimes vhen you are alone? Somesing like svearing vhen you stub your toe and your parents are out of zhe house? Can't help it." Richtofen admitted, scrabbling to find some sort of relatable scenario. Even when his parents were out of the house, it wasn't common for him to say anything. He was always paranoid they'd stashed cameras all over the place. "Und since you're up, I'm just going to take a shower."

Richtofen crawled over to the drawer where he had been keeping his things. "Sure, if that makes ya feel good about yourself." Dempsey offered. He opened the bottom cabinet and pulled out what he would need. "I wanna go back to sleep, but you're bein' active and that makes me want to get up and do stuff. Why did ya have to do that?"

"Zhen go back to sleep. It's not as if showering is louder zhan a bomb exploding." He coolly commented, snatching a look at him. Dempsey returned it with a quirked eyebrow in his direction, blue eyes showing that their tiredness levels were shared. After a few seconds, he looked back down at his uniform to avoid making things awkward. And yet, he only made it worse by removing his shirt and throwing it at his bunk. "Vbat do ve do vith our laundry?"

"Not use it as a striptease. Hope that gets you far in life and far away from throwing your tank tops at Tanks." Dempsey snidely said, showing that his intelligence level expanded a little bit further than how to get people drunk. His article of clothing missed his bunk completely and instead hit the American in the face. Richtofen blushed, trying again after it was thrown back at him. _Can't I be coordinated, like all zhe other boys? Vell, it's not like it vas your boxers._

There was the idea in his head again, the same thing having to do with Edward plus Tank minus clothing. He couldn't put a finger on exactly why he was thinking such things. After all, they'd only known one another for a few days. "I'm being serious." Richtofen growled, getting up and slinking to the bathroom. It was nearly impossible to see in the dark because of the heavy black curtains that graced the windows of each dorm, but they both managed to pull it off.

"What'd you think? Some maids came and picked it up for you?" Dempsey asked him incredulously. He saw the blond blink a couple of times after he flipped on the light. "I don't know either, but I think we're gonna figure it out sometime." Richtofen turned his back to him and shut the door with a sigh. Maybe he enjoyed his company, but he really was an idiot. It was understandable that he didn't know where the laundry was supposed to go, though.

"Vhy in zhe hell did I just srow off my shirt like zhat? Am I still drunk?" He looked at himself in the mirror. "Nein, no dark-rimmed eyes, no red nose... Besides, I haven't even consumed alcohol for zhe past two days." Richtofen had really just been messing around when he said that. Of course, it was impossible for him to be drunk again. If Dempsey had heard him right now, he'd probably go red in the face again. Thankfully, he was a pro at muttering things.

He turned on the shower to the heat of 'dude you're going to burn in molten fucking lava', removed his boxers, and jumped in. The young German bit his lip at the heat, though it wasn't from the pain one would usually feel. Richtofen was a pretty screwed up teenager, enjoying his own pain and the pain of others. That was the reason why he'd been forced to bite down a moa of sorts after he smacked his forehead. His nerve endings were wired from frequent beatings and the like to enjoy it. Even that hangover caused an odd level of enjoyment for him.

Yes, indeed, Edward Richtofen was more than just 'pretty screwed up'. As he washed his hair, he thought of things. _I am a Neo Nazi; I am a sadist, and I... _Richtofen denied himself the right to use his brain to think. If he pointed out his own weaknesses, the voices had a bad habit of prodding at them even more. To compare it on a level that was in his brain, it was like watching a wound scab and then ripping it off whenever it did.

His eyes snapped open as he remembered exactly what today was. The first day of school here. A sick feeling twisted his guts into a fine mush with a steroid-injected peach pit in the midst of it all. Richtofen chewed on his lip at he thought of everything that could possibly happen. _Zhere could be a lot of homevork, zhe teachers could be asses, I could get made fun of, I could get beat up... Vell, lots of homework isn't zhat bad, unless Dempsey turns out to be von of zhose guys who makes me do zheir homevork._ Strangely, just talking to the American for a few minutes had calmed his mind.

Was it normal to be thinking of another male in a way that made him blush? "You just like him as a friend. Vhat's it zhat zhey call it? Ah, ja, a man crush." Richtofen resolved his issue as quickly as he had showered. "How could you not have a man crush on him?" He muttered to himself as he pulled his towel off of the hook. "Stop it." If he kept thinking about it, his problem would never truly go away, and that would not leave him in a good position.

Richtofen dressed and left the room after putting his towel on the hook. He liked to think while he showered, but he'd been oddly repressing of his thoughts today. Maybe it was the mixture of fabled man crushes and the way the voices had effected him just a couple of nights ago at the party. The brown haired teenager inwardly groaned when he saw the clock. _Not even four yet. It felt like an hour vhen I vas talking to Dempsey. _Right now, it was two thirty-six. He'd thought that his time in the shower would have been at least a half hour. According to his calculations, the total time should have been three thirty.

It'd probably be a long morning. He looked over to the bunk housing his roommate and saw that he was passed out once again. Richtofen sighed and went to his own bunk, resting his elbows on his knees and then his chin in his hands. "I'll just stare at zhe clock and vatch zhe minutes pass. Maybe I'll be blessed enough to go asleep again. He turned his attention to the numbers that boasted the same color as his eyes and began to watch.

Two thirty-seven. Two thirty-eight. Two thirty- before the short sixty seconds were up, his eyes were drooped and he succumbed to sleep. Richtofen feel to the floor and ended up like a particularly odd diver, on his belly with his legs rod-straight and his arms like planks by his sides. Unlike the norm that he was so used to, he began to dream.

_He was in some sort of musty building, and he was holding a gun that he couldn't recognize. Just looking at its toy-like nature made him think of one of the guns his friends played with as younger kids. It seemed like it could fit right in with a bunch of other weaponry from an obscure sci-fi movie. For some reason, although it seemed completely useless, the gun excited him. Richtofen smiled a little bit and looked up around the place._

_ It was a theatre with Nazi banners hanging from the walls, collapsed furniture and bowed structures. A grand staircase winding around either side of the room greeted him like a giant attempting to offer a hug. There was a circular pad in the middle of the place with a cord going into another room that he was too mesmerized to enter. To his right, there was a counter showing off bottles with various colors, and behind it was a glowing blue machine he instantaneously realized was something called Quick Revive. The most curious thing of all, though, were the windows. They were all over the place, and each one was boarded up with planks._

_ A moaning sound greeted his ears and he traced it back to one of the windows to his left and then up the large staircase. What could it possibly be? Richtofen looked around for a couple seconds, wondering if he'd just been hearing things, before cautiously walking towards the steps. He noticed a large amount of blood on the ground and guts that seemed like sun-dried tomatoes. Resisting the urge to retch out the contents of his stomach, he stepped back. His foot bumped something._

_ Richtofen looked down and saw that it was a cracked mirror flat on the ground. He looked down, wondering if he was still himself in this strange dream. The first thing that caught his attention was the impeccable Nazi uniform that he wore the like of one of the __Führer'__s best. Next was his face. Richtofen looked the same as he had before, but in the same respect different. He looked older, the lines on his face more fine than they were as a fifteen year old, and streaks of grey graced the sides of his hair where brown usually was. Just to test, he waved a hand. His reflection waved a gloved hand back at him. There was the same hair color, same eye color... Everything seemed the same; he was just older._

_ Before he could revel in his own reflection any longer, another groan resounded throughout the room. His head snapped up while the hairs on the back of his neck dangerously prickled, a sign of warning to him. At the top of the stairs was another Nazi. Well, it could have been. Grotesque, blued flesh hung down on its face like ribbons, and a uniform once as fine as his was spattered with blood and innards. Two yellow eyes burned with hatred. Its head swerved around until those soul-shriveling eyes met his own, and the zombie seemed to grin._

_ He would have to be dreaming, right? Why was it that everything seemed so real? It was almost like he'd stepped deep inside his subconscious mind to go and dig for memories. Richtofen inched backwards, letting out a quiet gasp. He'd seen these things in his past before, whether it was in a cheap movie in the cinema or one of the disgustingly gory video games he loved to play. The zombie began to shamble down the steps, head lolling with its jaw wide. More blood and saliva painted a new coat on its chest when it spilled from the thing's mouth. "Zhere is no vay zhat zhis can be..." In the back of his mind, his brain noticed that his voice still sounded the same._

_ His would-be attacker continued to advance, and he was aware of the sound of tearing boards surrounding him. Richtofen spun around, having to enhance his grip on the sci-fi spawned gun to prevent dropping it on the ground. There were more of them, as much as two or three per window. They all looked the same as the zombie coming towards him right now, former features marred by the hand of death, decomposing, and reanimation._

_ The sound of boots charging into the room caught his attention, and he saw a figure standing at the top of the stairs to his right. "What the hell, Richtofen? How hard is it to watch a fuckin' room? There are freakbags everywhere now!" A familiar gravelly voice snapped at him, and he blushed. Was that really Dempsey in his strange dream right now? _

_ "Dempsey?" He asked, though it was mostly to himself. The moaning of the zombies and the fear that had the power to make him piss his pants felt insignificant in light of his sudden appearance. It was all swiftly brought back like a crashing wave when a certain undead soldier reached the bottom of the stairs and grabbed at his uniform. The thing pulled Richtofen forward, and he felt the freezing grip of its hands on his neck. His eyes widened when it leaned forward, preparing to bite a chunk out of his neck._

_ Its head exploded in a beautifully red display of carnage, spewing brain matter all over his jacket and face. He felt energized by the blast of blood. "You just gonna stand there? We've got a room fulla maggot-whores tearin' down the boards." Dempsey growled again, rushing down the stairs. "It's like you've never seen a zombie before. Take those two windows, quick!" The American ordered, pointing his hands at the two windows near one another. There were zombies everywhere, and they were nearly spilling out._

_ Richtofen looked down at the gun in his hand and felt as if he suddenly knew how to shoot the thing. Swallowing his fear as best he could and approaching the first of the windows he'd been directed to, he pulled the trigger. Three zombies crumpled down with confused exclamations from a ball of green light that rippled like water after a stone was dropped in. Wonder rushed through him more forcefully than the actual kick of the gun. "Do you like my shiny green balls?" He cried with an insane-sounding laugh with a pitch higher than a dog whistle._

_ He shot again, and the rest of the assailants collapsed in a pile of their fallen brethren. Although they'd not made it through the window, the others had. Richtofen found the explosions of guns easily distracted him. "Maybe zhis veapon isn't so useless after all." The Nazi chuckled, turning to the other crowd surging at him before he had to be reminded by a bite in his neck. With more crazy laughter, he finished his work with the gun in his hands._

_ Dempsey approached him and he whirled around, the barrel of the gun lined up between his eyes. The blond stuck his hands up in the air. "Good god, I'm not a zombie. Have you been drinking?" He snapped, coming closer and shoving his hands back down to his sides. "I'd come back from the dead and kick your ass if you shoot me. Now come on, you kraut, and help me find Nikolai and Tak." Anger boiled in his entire being at his treatment._

_ Richtofen returned the shove, his eyes narrowed. "No, I haven't been drinking. Not since a couple of nights ago, anyvay..." Dempsey's brow rose at him and he looked impressed at his statement. He returned the expression in a confused way._

_ "How'd you get into Nikolai's vodka? He keeps that more close to him than one of his seven wives." His face smoothed over once he'd said it, devoid of the supposed cheer. It was like he'd remembered that he wasn't a friend of him almost immediately. But weren't they friends? His strange dream seemed to be twisting everything around. "I don't care. Get your ass in gear." He turned on the tan heel of his boot and stalked in the direction from which he'd come to the rescue._

_ He awkwardly followed. "Do I actually know a Nikolai or a Tak?" Richtofen questioned himself, only loud enough for him to hear. Dempsey was further ahead, anyway, he probably wouldn't have noticed if he'd let his voice get a little louder. Blame his paranoia on that. Now that he actually thought if he knew either of those people... "No. I don't sink zhat I do." The brown-haired Nazi murmured as he increased his pace to catch up with him. Dempsey's stony expression and the fact that he didn't even cast a look at him confirmed it would be best not to ask._

_ They arrived in a room with yet another staircase, but they were both at the top. At the bottom, sitting on a counter near a green and shining machine were two men. One was garbed Red Army dress and appeared to be a little out of shape. The other was a stiff-backed individual sporting an Imperial Army uniform. At the time, they were playing some sort of card game that Richtofen didn't recognize. "Just in time! Nikolai! Deal us in!" Dempsey called with a wide, childish smile._

_ The Russian looked up at him and confirmed his identity when he spoke. "Nikolai will do that." He produced a bottle containing a clear liquid, taking a generous sip before slapping a few cards on either side of the counter. "Now, you and Nazi come downstairs quickly. Maybe we will finish game before we get another visit from zombies! Let us see if Takeo wins again."_

_ Dempsey went down the stairs and Richtofen followed, choosing this time to not hang back like a little girl. So the Japanese man's name was Takeo, apparently, and Nikolai was the Red Army man. For some reason, they seemed oddly familiar. They came to the counter and sat down in a pair of rickety chairs that had been set up. Probably in hopes that the two were joining them, Richtofen assumed._

_ Nikolai grinned with yellowed teeth, a cut on his split lip reopening and oozing a little blood. His eye twitched slightly at the appearance of the red liquid. "How about we make this game more interesting? Nikolai was just planning on letting Takeo win and then passing out. We now have two more, to let us make wagers. I wager my vodka. Just this bottle."_

_ The American's eyes widened and he looked down at himself to search for things to put up, putting his hand in his pocket and coming out only with lint. Richtofen followed the man's eyes to a nice-looking gun that sat on his lap. Everyone seemed to be staring at him. He groaned when Richtofen put up his unidentified weapon, pushing it to the middle of the table. Dempsey was clearly debating what would happen if he won the card game and then everything else. "Damn. I'm gonna have to give up my HK21." His gun went up and he looked at it forlornly._

_ "Werr, I sharr put up my Python because I cannot give away my honor." Takeo's head was suddenly raised and he glared at them with slanted brown eyes. "Arr of you are in dire need of it, though." He pushed a handgun onto the counter. Richtofen snickered, remembering how he'd read in a book that during the Second World War, it was always honor over humiliation. It was definitely something to be proud of if someone avoided the dishonor of capture and instead died. _

_ "Shut up, Takeo. We're here to play cards and test poker faces, not play with honor." The Russian chortled, a competitive glint shining in his eyes. He fanned out his cards in front of his face. Richtofen repeated the action even though he had no absolutely no clue of what was going on right now. He shared the same competitive feeling as the Russian. For some strange reason, he felt as if he actually had a few friends._

They were right about to actually begin playing. Richtofen's hands felt empty from the lack of smooth cards, and they also seemed to have been rubbing all over a very rough material. He sat up and felt at his head. No... the cap wasn't there any longer. "Vhy am I even vondering? Zhat vas just a silly little dream." But how could a silly little dream feel like it was alive and breathing? Richtofen didn't know.

There were more important things going on, and they wouldn't pause time for him to sit on the floor and think. One of those things was the first day of school, and the beginning of his entrapment in a classroom for hours on end was in twenty minutes.


End file.
